In America
by GrandmaCleverboots
Summary: Burt is a bear tamer and comes to America in 1866. He joins a circus and falls in love with the girl that dances on horses. When she dies after giving birth, Burt goes to his friends in the Gypsy camp and his son becomes milk-brother to the son of the leader of the camp. Kurt and Blaine grow up together from Chicago to Montana. Please join them on their historic journey.
1. Chapter 1 - The Boat

**Elkhorn Ranch, Dakota Territory 1884**

Kurt was riding as fast as Buck could gallop, following Teddy's horse across the edge of the prairie. Teddy had a head start, but Buck was fast and Kurt was a good rider.

"I can see them!" Teddy called, turning his head to shout over his shoulder at Kurt.

"Look!" Kurt yelled, motioning for the man to turn back around and watch out for himself. It was too late and Kurt saw Teddy fall from the running horse into the brush. Kurt pulled on the reins, bringing Buck to a halt before turning the horse back to help Teddy.

He was just stopping to slide off his horse when Blaine rode up on his black horse. Kurt loved that Blaine's silky black curls matched the long hair on his Gypsy horse and he couldn't help but smile at the man. Blaine smiled back before dismounting, rushing to Teddy's side to assess if there was any damage to their employer. Kurt, seeing that Teddy was being seen to, rode after the horse before he made it to the Montana Territory.

Back at Elkhorn Ranch, Teddy gingerly got off of his horse, Kurt and Blaine following him inside to make sure he was going to be okay. He's twisted his ankle pretty hard and it was swollen, the black and blue bruises evident when Blaine got the boot off.

"You'd best sit with that foot elevated, Teddy. I'll rustle up some lunch for us," Kurt said as Blaine moved the blanket on the settee in front of the fire and helped Teddy to sit.

"I best go help him. Is there anything else I could get you, TR?" Blaine asked.

"No...nothing. I was looking forward to skinning a buffalo by now, but it looks like I'm going to have to settle for writing about it instead," the man said in a grumpy voice.

"I can get you paper and your pen if you'd like," Blaine offered, but Teddy declined, shaking his head.

"I think I'll just look out the window until lunch. I can see the cow pens from here and the boys are branding calves today. I'll be fine. Thank you," he said, turning his head to look out the large window.

Blaine walked into the kitchen, glancing around to see if there was anyone else there.

"We're alone," Kurt said, cutting some onion for the omelet. Blaine came up in back of him and put his arms around Kurt's waist, his cheek to the man's muscular back.

"I like this," Blaine said, "Being alone with you, Kurt."

Blaine leaned forward to kiss Kurt's neck, drawing a satisfied hum from his friend. Kurt set the knife down and shifted around to take Blaine in his arms. He kissed Blaine gently, stroking his face and pulling him closer.

"I love you, Blaine," Kurt confessed, smiling when Blaine said it back.

**Eighteen Years Earlier**

**Atlantic Ocean 1866**

Branislav Havlicek climbed down the rope ladder to the dark hold of the ship and let himself into the wooden cage. He cuddled up against the warm fur of the cage's inhabitant and stroked her head.

"Mina, how's my girl?" he whispered in her fuzzy ear. "I've picked my _American_ name. Want to hear it?"

The bear just closed her eyes and sighed. She had been in her cage for seven weeks now, with short walks below decks when Branislav was able to sneak her out. He saved all the best food for her, bits of bread now, though at the beginning of the voyage it was fruit. He caught mice in the cargo hold to feed her, too. Despite his best efforts, she was getting thin and laconic and he was worried.

Bran had asked his friend Darina how long until they reached America and she told him a few more days. He watched the horizon to see if he could see land.

Out of his pocket, Bran slid a piece of potato with grease on it. Mina sniffed it eagerly and he fed it to her in three bites.

"I will have an American name when we get there, Mina." he confided to the bear. "I will be 'Burt Hummel'. Darina says it sounds German, but that is a good thing in America, the German people are industrious and well-liked. We will be famous, Mina. The circus will be famous and we will all make a lot of money," he grinned and rubbed the bear's ear.

Bran had fallen asleep in the cage with Mina when he heard the cry of 'Land Ho!' from somewhere above decks. He was steerage, not allowed on the upper decks, so he waited for word from some of the men that worked on the steamship.

Daria came running down the aisle between wooden crates and pens with animals. "Bran...Bran...you need to hide. I heard from some of the others: we need papers and we don't have them. If you hide in the cage with Mina I think you will get past the guards. They unload the passengers here at Castle Gardens, but the freight is unloaded on the New York docks. Hide under the straw close to her and you can get through," she whispered to him, then disappeared down the aisle to find her own hiding place.

Several days later, Branislav, who now went by the name Burt Hummel, was in the employ of a man from New York that owned his own circus. He bought Mina as 'abandoned cargo' when the real owners of the circus animals were arrested by Irish policemen and detained. The rumor was that they did not have the port entry fees and had been deported, the circus animals and a few of the workers left behind.

Burt spoke English and knew how to get Mina to dance and do tricks, so the new owner hired him. Burt lied about being able to train other animals but didn't think of it as a lie. He knew a lot about bears and how to train them with kindness and gentle hands, so why not elephants and zebras? It had worked. By the end of the week Burt was working with some horses, getting them to let ladies stand on their backs.

One of the horse dancers was a small woman who told Burt her name was Elizabeth Carter, but whispered to him one evening that it was actually Izabella Kolar. It was the same evening that he kissed her for the first time. He was in back of one of the tents, watering the horses and getting ready to feed Mina when Elizabeth came walking by. She had been smiling at him for a week as he showed her how to direct the horses while she stood on them in the circus ring. He had just a few weeks to train them and the owner was adamant that the horses were ready when the train pulled out.

Just the day before, Burt had helped Elizabeth steady herself while the horse galloped around the ring. He sat on the horse's back, his hands holding her waist as she learned how to lean to keep her balance. She was a fast learner and was standing by herself at the end of the session. He'd praised her and she leaned in to kiss his cheek before jumping off the horse and running to her tent.

That night, Burt sat in Mina's cage and told his bear about the girl. She was dark with long, thick black hair that she wore pinned up on her head, a small body and long legs. She had dark brown eyes and red lips that smiled at him. He was so taken with her, wanted to speak with her somewhere out of the environment of the circus, but that was not possible. Maybe someday. Mina listened and put her paw on Burt's leg, snuffling at his hand for more apples.

Tonight Elizabeth was by the horse trough when Burt brought the last horse to drink before he settled them down for the night. He had rubbed this one down, placed the bucket of oats in her stall, and forked down some hay into the manger. Unlike most circus owners, this one had the money to feed his stock properly. Burt was waiting while the horse drank when Lizza decided to speak to him.

"Burt, you are a good man. Where did you come from? Where is home to you?" she asked, looking at him with her dark eyes.

"I was born in Hungary of Czech parents, but I lost them to fever a few years ago. My father was a bear tamer, I am also a bear tamer. I took his bears and worked in a traveling show, then heard that I could come to America. I brought my favorite bear, Mina, but the man I trusted didn't have the papers or the money to get us off the ship as he promised. Mina was sold as abandoned cargo, and the new owner let me come with her."

"I come from near you, borned in Romania. I come here in New York and am then alone. I get job as 'horse dancer'. My family does acrobatics in Romania," she explained.

"Oh, that makes sense then. Is your family still in Romania?" he asked.

"No," Lizza answered, frowning. Burt could tell by her face that she didn't want to talk about it any more, so he changed the subject. They spoke about the circus and where they were going. Burt had never been on a train and was excited to go, Lizza had been on several in Europe and wasn't quite as excited. Burt finally finished with the horse and walked to it's stall to bed it down for the night, then he walked Lizza to her tent.

"Goodnight, Izabella," Burt said.

"No, Branislaw. We are Americans now. Goodnight, Burt Hummel," she said, smiling.

Goodnight, Lizza," he answered and smiled back, then walked to Mina's cage and crawled into the straw to sleep in her warmth.

**Brighton Trotting Track**

**Chicago 1866**

"Elizabeth, how are you feeling?" Burt asked. He'd noticed that she was a little pale the past few weeks and her balance on the horse wasn't as good as it had been.

"I'm fine. Maybe just a bit tired, maybe have cold," she said. "I am fine, Burt, don't worry for me."

"Meet me after training, okay? We can take the Archer Avenue Horsecar into Chicago and I will buy you supper. How does that sound?"

"Oh, can we? I want to see the city, Burt," Lizza said, a wan smile on her face.

Burt was more than worried about Lizza. She had been so cheerful and full of life when he first met her in the stockyards outside New York City. They had gone by train to many American cities and were so excited to see the great city of Chicago. A few weeks ago, however, Lizza started to look as if she wasn't eating and she often complained of being tired. Burt had been her friend from the start, and this was most disturbing as she began to avoid him. Maybe she just needed a stroll through the city to cheer her up.

Burt put his money in his inside pocket, a square of fabric sewn to a strap and worn around his neck to stop the pickpockets that hung around the circus. He put a penny for each of them in the coin box as they got on the horsecar, walking to the middle to sit down. It was a pleasant ride, the sight of Lake Michigan through the trees was pretty and all the new buildings were interesting. They got off on State Street and walked to a restaurant.

"I want soup," she told Burt.

"You can have anything you want, Lizza. I can afford it. I've been saving my money. Go ahead and order something better," he encouraged.

"No, I want soup. I'm not very hungry, but thank you, Burt," she said in her small voice.

Burt ordered the same and they ate the thick soup with pieces of chicken and a lot of noodles, then Burt had another bowl of the delicious stuff.

"Burt, I want to go back now. I don't feel well," Lizza said, looking very pale.

Burt got up and paid the bill, taking Lizza back to the stop to wait for the horsecar.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked, holding her tiny hand. He was very fond of her.

"I cannot tell you, Burt. You are too kind hearted and it would not be fair," she said.

He put a supportive arm around her, pulling her closer on the seat.

"Lizza, tell me. I can't help you if you don't tell me," he said and kissed her hair.

"Burt, you are too nice. I have bad trouble. Bad. You don't mix in it, okay?" she asked, pulling away. He gripped her tighter and she gave up and leaned on him, close to his side.

"Burt, I am going to be a mama," she confessed, then turned away, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"A baby? Who is the father?" he asked.

Lizza cringed.

"I not know his name," she lied. "He was in Cleveland and followed me after the show. I don't want to remember any more," she said. It had been the owner of the circus, but she didn't want Burt to get into a fight with the large man.

"He attacked you? Why didn't you come get me? You know I would have protected you!" Burt's voice got louder.

"Hush, everyone is looking. I could not get away from him, and after he left me in the road. I walk back and go to sleep. I did not know I was going to be with baby. My friend, Luba explain. She tells me to get husband. I don't know how," Lizza said through her tears.

"Oh, don't cry, Lizza. I'll marry you. I love you," Burt whispered in her ear.

"You not just say that?" she asked, a wary look on her face.

"No. I do love you. Lizza, I've been thinking of how to tell you I love you. Could I marry you?" he asked.

Lizza just sat there, watching as they passed more houses and people, horses and trees. There was still that beautiful view of Lake Michigan. They got back to the circus and Burt took Lizza to the tent with Mina's cage. He asked her when she would like to get married and she just looked away.

"Burt, you honor me to ask this, but the owner – he not like you to interfere. He get very mad. Best you leave me alone," she sobbed.

"Was he the one, Lizza?" Burt asked, but Lizza turned and walked away.

Three days later, the owner of the circus told Burt he was fired. The train left and Burt was sitting on the bank of the lake under the cover of trees. Mina was sitting a few feet away, sleeping in the sunshine.

"I don't know what I'm going to do, girl. I promise I will take care of you, but I need to find a job. I have enough to get a flat I think, but you'll have to keep quiet," he told the bear. He wasn't too worried, Mina was quiet and since she was old, she didn't do much but sleep.

Burt opened the piece of greasy paper and took half the sandwich, tossing the other half to Mina when she started sniffing. The cook for the circus had slipped Burt a bag of food as he was leaving. He had gone in back of the tents and slid under his, opening the cage so Mina could go with him. He knew he would be in trouble for it, the police would call it stealing, but there was no way Burt would leave Mina behind. He'd known her since she was a cub. His father had owned Mina's mother and loved her more than anything.

As he ate the sandwich, looking out at the lake and didn't hear the rustle of the brush behind him. He jumped as Lizza sat down beside him, her eyes swollen and red.

"He fired you, too, didn't he?" Burt asked. She nodded.

"Well, you're safe with me. I'll get a job and we can get married," Burt said. Lizza just nodded. She knew when she was beat.

A few months later, Burt was working at a bakery and had found them a flat on Vedder Street near Halsted Avenue. It was close to the Chicago River and a short walk to Lincoln Park where he and Lizza would go to eat lunch in the sunshine. Every day he fell more and more in love with her. Her dark skin and shining black hair were so beautiful, he could just sit and look in her eyes all day long. He loved her tummy as it got bigger and bigger. She didn't like it, but Burt could almost think it was his own baby growing there. He would put his hand on the swollen belly and feel the baby kick.

Burt went to visit his bear, Mina, on Saturdays. He worked every day of the week except Sunday, but Saturday afternoons he had off. At first he had taken Mina to the flat and let her sleep in the kitchen, but was very afraid that someone would see her and take her away from him, or that he would be arrested for stealing. Since being in America he was very afraid of policemen.

One night he took Mina to the edge of Lake Michigan, walking through the long grass growing on the shore towards the trees. He heard singing and before he could turn to walk another way he ran into a large man with black hair and beautiful, colorful clothes. The man beckoned him closer and Burt and Mina followed him. He knew the man was a Romani. There were people like these back home in Hungary, but they were called 'gypsies'. They came to a campfire and there was a woman feeding a small bear. She smiled when she saw Mina. The man introduced himself as Pesha and his wife as Catarina. The bear was named Ursula and they had found her in a bear nest, her mother shot and skinned nearby. Lucky for them, the baby bear was almost weaned. Mina took an immediate interest in the little one, licking her and lying down next to her.

Burt knew after one evening with these people that Mina would be happier in this place than she would ever be in his tiny flat on Vedder Street. He spoke to the woman and she would be glad to take care of Mina. Burt kissed his bear goodbye on her cold nose, rubbed her ear and walked back to Lizza, falling into her arms. She told him he was a noble man to put the happiness of his beloved pet above his own desire to keep her close, but that didn't stop the hot tears from rolling down his cheeks. He loved Mina, had been there when she was born. He felt like a traitor to have given her away and he hoped she would be there when he went back to visit the next Saturday.

A few months later on a Saturday, the sun was hiding behind clouds. They were going to visit Mina as they had every Saturday since Burt left her in the Romani camp. It was a nice May day, not too cold or hot and Burt was putting some fruit and cheese in a cloth to carry with him when he went to visit Pesha and Catarina. Lizza seemed fine as they walked along, singing under her breath as she smiled. Close to the Romani camp, Lizza started to walk slower and a few times she stopped, her hands flying to her belly.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Burt asked.

"Nothing. I have twinge, must have eaten something bad," she said and walked on.

By the time they reached the camp, Lizza was relieved to be able to sit. Catarina came out and looked at Lizza, asking her to come inside their wagon. The Romani woman was pregnant, too, and she and Lizza got along very well. Catarina went to another wagon, knocked and went inside, coming back with an older woman.

Burt was sitting by Mina, rubbing her ears and feeding her apples when Catarina and the older woman came out.

"You need to take your wife to the hospital," the older woman said.

"Why?"

"The baby is coming and she is too early. Baby will be too small. Go now, my son will take you," she said. Pesha ran to hitch one of the beautiful horses to a gaily painted cart and Burt helped Lizza into it. Pesha clucked at the horse and they were off, the horse almost running.

"If she is having the baby, isn't it better if she stays there?" Burt asked. "I'm sure your people could deliver a baby."

"No, this baby is too soon. Only a doctor can do it. I will take you to the Mercy Hospital and the nuns will take care of you," he said, then was silent as they traveled to the dingy little building on Prairie Street.

Several hours later, Burt was escourted in to a room, Lizza lying on a pillow with a bundle wrapped in a blanket in her arms.

"See her, Burt? Isn't she pretty?"

Lizza pulled back the blanket and there was a tiny, wizened baby, her dark skin yellowish and her eyes dull. Burt took the tiny girl and kissed her face, putting her in a white dress embroidered with flowers that had been a present from Catarina, then re-wrapping the baby in the blanket.

Lizza closed her eyes, beaten down with fatigue. Burt sat holding the new baby for several hours until he, too, fell asleep. The baby lay in her crib in the ward, a curtain dividing the new mothers in the large room. A nun came and told Burt to wait outside while she helped Lizza feed his new daughter. He could hear the baby's weak cry, then Lizza's, too. He turned and left, feeling as if something bad was going to happen.

The next day, Burt came to get Lizza. They were only allowed to stay one day in the maternity ward at Mercy hospital. Burt had asked his boss if he could have three days off and the man agreed, so Burt was there to take his wife home. Lizza looked tired, but insisted that she would carry the baby. Burt wanted to call her Elizabeth after her mother, but he hadn't told Lizza yet. Burt was keeping it as a surprise. They walked through the spring morning, Lizza holding the baby, wrapped in a pink and yellow blanket, a present from Burt.

"Would you like to lie down?" Burt asked once they were back in the flat.

"Yes, I'm so tired, Burt," Lizza said, kissing his lips before going into their bedroom to put on her nightgown and get into bed. The baby was in a cradle that Burt had borrowed.

"I put new sheets on the bed and bought a chicken for supper. I have it in the oven and I will make soup from the broth tomorrow," he said. He leaned over to kiss Lizza, but she was sleeping. Burt had worried because she had a high fever in the past few days and rosy spots on her chest. Her belly was still as swollen as it was before she gave birth. Was that right? But the nuns had dismissed her, so this must be typical with having a baby.

A few hours later, the baby was screaming and Burt went to see about it. He lifted his daughter, surprised that such a sickly little girl could make such a noise. Opening the blanket he saw not the sickly dark baby with a head of dark hair, but a pale beautiful baby with rosy complexion, soft blue eyes and tufts of reddish hair. This baby was wiggling and struggling, strong and loud. Burt could feel she was wet and left to get a diaper. Coming back, he unpinned the wet one and was very startled that his daughter was now a boy, well endowed with all the male equipment a boy would need.

Burt sat down on the bed, shaking his head and wondering what made Lizza do this. Did the baby girl die? Obviously this was not her child, did Lizza steal this from another mother? Suddenly Burt was very frightened. He turned to Lizza to try and make sense of it, but when he reached out to caress her cheek, it was cold. He hugged the baby boy close to him and cried.

"Oh, God...my Lizza...my sweet Lizza...what have you done?"


	2. Chapter 2 - The Baby

**A/N: I apologize for the problems concerning the formatting of this chapter. I don't know what caused the problem, but I deleted it and reloaded the chapter and I hope this takes care of the issue. **

**I will not abandon this story, but it might be a short wait until the next chapter due to my health. Please don't give up, I promise the next chapter will be along as soon as I can. Thanks to all.**

Burt Hummel stood in the Catholic graveyard holding a tiny baby inside his coat. It might be the end of spring, but a cold wind blew in from Lake Michigan and he didn't want the baby to catch a fever. He stood there with tears running down his face, a daisy in his hand to put in the grave.

"There, there, brother Hummel, she has gone to a better place," one of the nuns said, patting him on the forearm. Burt didn't care about any other place. His Lizza belonged here with him, taking care of this baby. He wanted her back and he shook with sobs.

"God has a plan and we cannot question it," the sister on his other side said. "You have your daughter at least. God does not give you more than you can bear, you know. You'll have to be strong to be a father to your baby girl."

Burt didn't know what to say. These women had been there taking care of his Lizza and thought he was holding the baby daughter she had given birth to. He looked across the graveyard to another funeral. They had not yet closed the casket and he could see that it was a woman with pale skin and chestnut-red hair. She must have died in childbirth because there was a bundle in the casket with her, wrapped in a pale blue blanket. All around her gravesite were mourners, most all with pale skin and red hair, speaking with Irish on their tongues. Burt gripped his baby tighter and knew he would have to leave this town. Soon.

Burt was not granted solace at the funeral. His mother had always said that funerals were for the living, so they could grieve. The dead knew not what was going on around the body they had cast off.

The walk back to his flat on Vedder Street was slow and cold. Burt shivered and brought the coat he wore closer around the baby to protect him from the wind. The little one started to stir and Burt walked faster, reaching the door before the baby started to scream. He went inside and looked in the ice box, cursing himself for not buying enough ice to last until the end of the week. The milk was canned, so he thought it would be alright.

The new father set the baby down in the little cradle he bought at the second-hand store. The poor thing was really crying and it hurt the man's heart to hear it. He set a pan on the stove and poured in the sweetened condensed milk, some water, and a tablespoon of blackstrap molasses. It seemed awfully sweet, but the nun in charge of babies at the hospital had written it down for him, then told him to find a wet-nurse as soon as possible.

Stirring the watery formula until it was just warm to the touch on the inside of his wrist, he poured it into a bottle and fit the rubber cap on. He tested it for leaks and picked up the baby, cradling his little son and putting the bottle to his lips. He opened his mouth and seemed to play with the funny smelling rubber tip with his tongue, then took a sample suck. He had the cutest look on his tiny face and began sucking as hard as he could, drinking the entire three ounces in just a few minutes.

Burt put a dry diaper over his shoulder and patted the baby's back until he burped loudly. He gurgled a tiny bit and burped again, then closed his big blue eyes. Burt brought him back down and held the little tyke in his arms, rocking in the chair and singing a lullaby. Once his son was asleep, Burt set him in the cradle and scooted it closer to the fireplace to keep him warm.

On the day that his Lizza died, he scooped up the screaming baby and walked next door to the old widow woman that lived there.

"I hate to disturb you, Mrs. Field, but could you watch my baby for a few minutes..." he started, but couldn't speak another word. The shock of it all hit him and he just crumpled to the floor, his face wrinkled with agony as he held the baby – who continued to scream.

Mrs. Field came close and took the baby from his arms, rocking for a few moments until he had fallen into a fitful sleep.

"Now, Mr. Hummel, what's wrong? Where is Mrs. Hummel?" she asked kindly.

"I...I think...I think she's dead," Burt gasped and started crying again.

Mrs. Field got up and called the neighbor boy over to her kitchen door.

"Ruben, go fetch Dr. Alexander here. Hurry, boy," she said and the teenaged boy ran to get him.

While he was gone, Mrs. Field asked Burt a few questions about Lizza: how long she'd been in hospital, how she had looked, what she might have said. Burt answered as much as he could, telling her about the fever and cough and the swollen stomach as if she hadn't even had the baby.

"Mr. Hummel, I think she had typhoid. There have been so many that had it, and being in the hospital she was near the typhoid ward. She must have caught it, poor thing. Now, Dr. Alexander will call the people to come and you must feed this baby. I have some goat's milk that will do for now, but she must have real formula or a wet-nurse soon."

Mrs. Field took a clean handkerchief and dipped it in the goat's milk, showing Burt how to feed the baby with the dripping corner. It took some time, but the baby was hungry and sucked on the handkerchief with gusto. He was soon full and sleepy once more.

"You stay here, I hear the Doctor's buggy. I will go with him to see to your Elizabeth," the old widow told the young man. She patted his shoulder and gathered her skirts, stepping out the front door to meet the doctor.

From that day until the burial Burt was caught in a whirlwind in which he couldn't even get his breath. There were funeral arrangements to make, a casket to order, the priest to employ, and so many little things to take care of. Lucky for him, his employer at the bakery was kind enough to give him the next few days off to take care of his family. The most important thing was taking care of the baby. Because of the typhoid epidemic, he was afraid to ask again at the hospital for a wet-nurse and Mrs. Field knew of no one with a new baby. He might have to feed his son this formula until he could wean him, and who knows how long that was.

On top of all of this was the guilt and fear. Burt was not a stupid man. He knew the wizened dark baby girl was not this pale and robust baby boy and he knew that Lizza had probably been driven crazy in her fever to steal this baby. He thought that this must be the son of that Irish family, he had seen her in the ward at the hospital. She seemed bright and full of life the day he'd gone to see Lizza, but women with childbed fever died quickly. He wanted to give the baby back, knew he should – but what if it wasn't their baby? And with a dead mother, this baby would not be better off than it was with him. There would be policemen and questions that he could not answer. He didn't want his beloved Elizabeth to have a tarnished name, even in death. He pulled the blanket back a smidgen and kissed the reddish hair on the small, perfectly shaped skull. He was in love with this baby and it seemed to him that since the first moment he had held him, this baby was his son.

Burt was not just fearful of the police, he was terrified of them. He'd seen drunks on the sidewalks on his way to work at four in the morning, the paddy wagons drawn by the big brown police horses were filled with the drunks and men down on their luck. It was pitiful. The big, burly Irish policemen would haul them up to their feet and throw them into the wagons to be taken to jail. Burt could not imagine what happened after that.

The Irish owned this town and if they thought this Hungarian-Czech with no citizenship papers had stolen an Irish baby...well, he could not even conceive what might happen to him. He told himself once more that he needed to get out of Chicago.

Burt sat and ate his supper. He missed his Lizza. There was one picture of her, a post-card from the circus that featured the girls on dancing horses and Lizza was standing on the back of a white horse in full regalia The big horse was prancing around the ring with Lizza in her costume, a sweet smile on her face. Burt put the post-card back in the pages of his Bible and set it down. He needed to do one thing before he left town. He would have the baby baptized and register the birth with the church. He owed Lizza that much.

After supper, Burt got ready for bed and lay down, his son in his arms to keep him warm. It might be spring, but it was chilly this close to Lake Michigan. He closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep, knowing he would be getting up in four hours to feed the little bundle of...ah...soggy joy. Burt sighed and got up to change the diaper. A few minutes later he was back in bed, cuddling his now dry son and falling asleep.

At four Burt was up, the baby bundled in a warm blanket and ready to walk to the bakery. Once again Burt's employer had come to his rescue, now allowing the man to bring his son to work with him.

Burt stepped in the shop's back door, setting his son down in an apple box that he'd converted into a crib of sorts. It was on the back table, close to the warm oven to keep the baby warm. He set the bottle of formula down beside it and got out his apron to start measuring the dough. The baker had been in an hour ago to stoke the oven with wood and the temperature would be right in another hour. Burt had to mix the dough and set it to rise before that.

Just as he got the last of the pans filled with dough and set them to rise, the baby started to cry, so Burt set his tools down to feed and change him. It worked this way for a few weeks, but his son got fussy more often now and had to have two bottles before he was full.

Saturday afternoon, Burt took the baby and set out to visit Mina. He had been so busy or so tired that he hadn't seen his friends since Lizza's funeral. The day was bright and sunny, the trees and flowers in bloom as Burt walked the long way to the Romani camp.

"Burt!" Pesha said, smiling as he saw his friend walking into camp. "How are you? How is your Lizza?" he asked.

Burt's smile faded. He didn't want to talk about Lizza, but Pesha had a right to know.

"I buried her. She came home with the baby and when I went in to see why it was crying, she was gone. Taken by the typhoid. I buried her in the Catholic cemetery," he said.

Pesha put a comforting arm around the man, understanding his pain. The typhoid epidemic had taken loved ones from almost everyone.

"So, the baby?" the Romani man asked.

"He is fine. Here, see for yourself," Burt offered, taking the baby from inside his coat where he was keeping him warm.

Pesha took the baby, grinning for a moment, then looking from the baby to Burt and back. He had a skeptical look on his face, but didn't say anything.

Burt looked away for a moment, then told Pesha the whole story – of Lizza giving birth to the sickly dark baby girl, then coming home with this boy, of the funeral and the Irish mother that died in childbirth. Pesha didn't say anything for a long time.

"My Catarina had the baby three days ago. It is a boy," Pesha broke the silence. He was overjoyed at the birth of a fine, healthy son but it didn't seem right to be that happy when his friend's wife had just died.

"Oh, that is good, tell me, is he healthy?" Burt asked and Pesha grinned. "He is healthy and Catarina is doing well, too. Please excuse me for a moment."

Pesha got up and went inside his wagon, coming back out with a glass of wine for Burt and one for himself.

"We drink to our sons!" he said and he and Burt clinked their glasses together and drank.

"Now, come and see my son," he invited and Burt followed him into the wagon.

"Oh, he is beautiful!" Burt cooed. "So beautiful with his dark curls and those eyes!"

"Thank you, Burt Hummel. Catarina has offered something, but I do not know if it is in your culture."

"Ask me anything, I will listen. You know I will give you an honest answer," Burt said, looking at his friends.

"She says the baby cannot be healthy for long on cow's milk. She says it would be an honor if your son and mine were to be milk brothers," Pesha said.

"Milk brothers?" Burt asked.

"Yes, two babies to share her milk. It has been done before, there is a history of this. If Catarina nurses both babies, they will be bonded for the rest of their lives. Do you understand?"

"Yes. I have been so worried, he spits up more than he eats. He has pain in his belly. I worry but there has been nothing I could do. I would be honored if our sons were milk brothers," Burt said with a sigh.

"Let me see if he will suck, give me the baby," Catarina asked, her hands out. Burt handed his son to her and she brought him under her shawl. The baby was greedy, drinking his fill. Burt blushed at the sounds his son was making.

"Won't that take milk away from your son?" Burt asked, worried.

"No, it just makes more. Nature provides. It is as if I had given birth to twins, it is not to worry. All will be well," Catarina said, cuddling the pale boy close to her breast. "See, he will be fine. Feed that canned stuff to the pigs, your son will have only the best."

Pesha smiled and put an arm around Burt's shoulders.

"We give our sons strong American names, right? So they will grow and be fine American men. We are naming our son 'Blaine'. It is meaning 'bold, strong, and lean'. What did you think to name your son?" Pesha asked.

"After my father, Konrad. The American name would be 'Kurt'. It means 'wise council'. I hope for my son to be smart like his grandfather," Burt said, a sad smile crossing his face as he thought about his father. He wondered if this name for his son would be the right one. He wanted his son to be smarter than he had been.

"I know Kurt will grow to be wise and Blaine will grow to be strong. They will be the best of friends and watch out for each other, there is no stronger bond than to be milk brothers, Burt. Let us drink another toast to our American sons!" Pesha sang out, happy to have something so good to celebrate.

It was cold outside and Burt had finished his shift at the bakery. He no longer lived in the tiny flat on Vedder Street next to Mrs. Field. The typhoid had taken her a month ago and Burt was afraid to live in the city. He lived now with Pesha and Catarina in one of the wagons at their camp. When they were close to Chicago, he went in to help at the bakery. Most of the time the Romani people he had been adopted by went where they could earn some money to buy a few things, or to put on a show with the bears and some of the women who danced. Burt was happy to be with Mina and he was training the bear cub that Pesha had rescued. It was what his family had done for generations and Burt was comfortable doing it.

Kurt grew from a scrawny little baby into a healthy boy with ruddy red cheeks and a robust disposition. He smiled and cooed at everyone. His milk brother, Blaine, was also strong, but more compact and had a more quiet way about him. They had learned to walk within a week of each other and both called Catarina 'Mama'. She was proud of the boys and catered to them. The Romani people believed that every child was a gift from God and they treated them as such. That is not to say they were spoiled, there was firm discipline and limits set, but for the most part the boys were loved and grew confident in themselves with the attention lavished upon them by the whole group.

"Dadadadada," Blaine babbled, reaching his tiny hands out to Pesha. His father gathered him up and kissed the baby on his rosy cheek. Sitting in a chair, he set Blaine in his lap and Kurt came toddling over to see what his brother was up to. He tried to get up on Pesha's lap, too, so the man gave him a boost and settled him on his other knee.

"What are my fine, strong boys doing today?" Pesha asked, an arm around each boy.

"They found the cornmeal and spread it all over my clean floor," Catarina said, trying to look angry- but a twitch at the side of her lips gave her away. Pesha laughed out loud and Catarina lost her frown. "They were trying to help, I think. I had it cleaned up in just a few swipes of the broom. I let them feed it to the chickens."

"Then it wasn't wasted. We will have eggs for breakfast and all be the stronger for it," Pesha said. He took his pipe from the little table and pulled a pouch of tobacco from his vest pocket. Opening the pouch, he held it out to Kurt who took a large pinch and set it in the pipe carefully, Blaine's eyes on his the whole time. Pesha held the pipe up to Blaine and the boy pushed the tobacco down into the bowl of the pipe and looked at his father with a self-satisfied grin.

"Thank you, boys. That was very good. One day you might be great men and smoke a pipe," Pesha praised. "Now, get down and help Mama," he directed before lighting the pipe and taking a pull on it. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the wooden chair. He was tired from working at a local farm today. It was still snowing and he had loaded a wagon to take into the fields to feed livestock. It made no sense to him that people called the Romani people 'lazy Gypsies'. They were not a lazy race, working hard jobs that no one else wanted to do. But he didn't think about it for long. The opinions of other people didn't matter to him. He was proud of his people and that was all that was necessary.


	3. Author's Note

I am sorry to say that this story is on hiatus. I promise that I will come back to it, but I'm unable to work on it right now. It takes so much research and I am not at my best health-wise. Please believe me, I will finish this story. Thank you for your patience. I am going to remove it at the end of next week and repost when I'm up to writing the rest.


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